A spontaneous discussion that transpired in the aftermath of a panel
discussion on changing Iranian identities struck a chord of seeming cultural
contention. It was a discussion on Iranian Jewry and the tendency for Iranians
to question the national allegiances of Iranian Jews. "Iranian or
Jewish?", they ask.

The discourse developed at the recent seminar organized by the Society
for Iranian Studies in Bethesda, Maryland, with the sponsorship of the
American Institute of Iranian Studies. The last panelist's topic of presentation
was "Ethnicity and religion: Maintaining Iranian Jewish Identity."
She ended her discussion by paraphrasing what she said was the collective
sentiment of Iranian Jews on the issue of not being accepted by Muslim
Iranians: "We were there before Islam," she declared. As she
sat down applause rose from the audience. Apparantly there were quite a
few Jewish members of the Iranian community in the audience.

"Jews have been in Iran for 2,700 years. That's ninety generations
ago! Why do you still not accept us as Iranians?", demanded one vociferous
member of the audience standing in the back of the crowded room. "Our
parents had two names, one Persian and one Jewish," recalled another
member of the audience, and added, "In our generation, we only have
one name... a Persian one." Some audience members concurred as she
continued. "Sometimes in America, Jewish people ask me what my Hebrew
name is and I say I don't have one. They're surprised. We've done everything,"
she proclaimed. "It's you, the Muslims, who don't accept us."

One young woman, a poet, who had driven all the way from Connecticut
to attend the seminar in Maryland said, "I want you to know this is
becoming very therapeutic." As she drew laughter from the crowd, she
went on to forcefully make her point. "We speak Farsi better than
we speak Hebrew, we listen to Persian music, we rejoice at Noruz, which
is not the Jewish celebration of the New Year but a Persian one, but still
we're accused of having mixed allegiances." She added that her volition
to drive from Connecticut to Maryland for a cultural conference on Iran
should demonstrate her allegiances.

Seeking to make some peace, one bearded gentleman with a congenial tone
stood up to share a childhood memory with us. He recalled that as a Muslim
child born to Muslim parents, he was sent to a Jewish school in Tehran.
When the Jewish children had Torah lessons , he recalled, the Muslim kids
would be sent out for recess, and their Jewish mates were all jealous.
"One day," he recalled with a smile, "I came home and said
to my mother, 'Mom it's a holiday tomorrow, we don't have school.' My mother
thought a little and said, 'what Holiday?' I said 'Mom, It's Purim tomorrow!'"
Again the release of laughter came from the crowd. "So the relationship
between Jews and Muslims was congenial," he concluded.

"Why shouldn't it have been congenial?" rebutted another member
of the audience. Their was no reason why it shouldn't have been because
"the Jews are such masters at being minorities" that they "made
an effort to keep their Jewry in the background," in order to fit
into Persian society. She speculated that perhaps there was some "resentment"
from the Iranian Jewish community that they were forced to act this way
in order to attain the acceptance from Muslims, that to this day, alludes
them.

Leah Baer, the independent scholar that presented the paper concurred.

As the cycle of tension to comic relief began to rebound again, one
audience member standing in the back of the now packed room proclaimed,
"We're the invisible. We're invisible from Iranian history, Iranian
literature, Iranian culture and Iranian society; yet we have made every
effort, to assimilate. Isn't it time to look at us?" "Politics,"
said a faint voice from the distance. Heads began nodding in affirmative
unison.

"There's no democratic conception of Iranian identity," claimed
one audience member attempting to diffuse the deadlock. The Iranian identity,
he explained, is not defined as one set of rules. It is a definition of
allegiance, circumstance and proclamation. "We don't accept Iranians
as just Iranians, we judge them by their accents, their beliefs, their
language skills, and yes even their religion," he charged. "This
is why the question of allegiance arises as related to Iranians."
Afsaneh Najmabadi of Barnard College, a speaker herself, offered her alternate
viewpoint. This is a "troubling" question, she said, that no
other minority demands an answer to. "It indicates a prejudice,"
she said. That response drew the ire of one audience member who walked
up to the podium to voice her disappointment that the issue had just been
termed as an example of "prejudice" by a "scholar."

The tension was rising again until one woman got up to share her own
story. "Years ago in Tehran", she began, when she and her brother
were children, they had gone to a gathering where Jews were on one side
and Muslims on another. Her brother, she said, had particularly Muslim
features. As he went to cross over to the Jewish side from the entrance,
a doorman stopped him. "I'm Jewish," he told the doorman. "No
you're not," said the doorman ushering him over to the Muslim crowd.
Finally he pleaded, "Agha beh Ghora'an-e-Majid, Jouhoudam!" ("I
swear to the Qoran, I'm Jewish!")

Cries of laughter arose from the crowd. In the end it was clear that
the Jewish community has an Achilles Heel on the issue of "inclusion."
Muslim Iranians in the crowd, for their part, seemed genuinely interested
in the issue and were even receptive to suggestions on how to break the
historic habit of alienating their Jewish compatriots.

The panel had now gone half an hour over its time allotment for that
room. So on an ending note one audience member asked the chair of the panel,
Houri Berberian, an Armenian, "Now that this has become a vetting
session of minority qualms, tell us Madame Chair, what are your thoughts
as an Armenian Iranian...?